


The Ice and the Fire that Fades

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Series: The Ice and the Fire That Fades [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: A storm envelops Antarctica in the days following the Transcendence. Hannah Feunna is sent on a mission to rescue the stranded scientists, and encounters a strange truth.2018 Transcendence AU Ficathon entry.





	The Ice and the Fire that Fades

                _And I see all there is to see, and I know all there is to know. Truths are my bones, and knowledge is my blood._

_And where is my body? Ah, down there. It is smaller than I remember. Small, and shivering, and fading. And yet it contains me. Constrains me. I can see beyond the veil, but sight alone cannot stop the fading. And if I fade-_

_No. I will stay here. I will endure. For separation is an illusion, and distance is relative, and I am infinite._

_But it’s so cold…_

 

* * *

 

                “Steer, uh, steer left. I mean port. Port. Port! Port!”

                There was a noticeable lean as the ship veered portside, and Hannah cringed as she watched a technicolour bubble phase through the floor of the bridge and completely engulf a technician manning radar. A second later it passed into the far wall and disappeared, leaving the technician untouched.

The ship stabilized, and Commander Rein looked to her.

                “Did we hit it?”

                “Uh, yeah.”

                There was a moment’s pause.

                “It doesn’t look like this one did anything, though.” She added. “So, uh, no harm done, right?”

                Rein grunted and turned back to the front. “A little more warning would be much appreciated next time.”

                “This one just popped out of nowhere.” She cringed as Rein shot her a look. “No, really, it did!”

                “If you say so.”

                Hannah’s mouth clamped shut, and she kept her eyes fixed on the sea ahead. Yep, if she said so. This entire ship depended on her say so.

                This wasn’t what she had in mind when she joined the Coast Guard, just saying. Most people were not commanding ships six months out of basic training, but thanks to the Transcendence, Hannah was not most people.  No, thanks to the Transcendence, there were people going missing and monsters only a select few people could see. She was one of them; she and some guy called Rick, but he was transferred away to help on another ship. She missed him. Now she had to point out things nobody else could see all by herself. To say she’d gotten some skeptical looks was an understatement. Stupid Transcendence.

                “Do you see anything?”

                “What?”

                “Do you see anything?” Rein repeated, an edge to her voice - no guesses as to where most of those skeptical looks were coming from. Hannah straightened and took a long look out of the window.

                Ice. Lots of ice. Black water that caught white glints from the ship’s lights. Nothing too unusual; there were those thin strings in the sky, but every time she mentioned them she’d have to specify that no, she wasn’t talking about the aurora – they looked like actual strings, like, you know, in a violin? – and anyway, they didn’t seem to do anything, so she’d sort of written them off.

                No sea monsters. No weirdness bubbles. For the time being, it looked clear.

                “Nothing out of the ordinary, um, Commander.”

                “Are you sure?”

                Hannah nodded. She could see Rein’s eyebrow twitch upwards for a moment before she reached over and picked up the intercom.

                “Alright everyone, we’re approaching the research station. Twenty five of the world’s best and brightest are waiting to be rescued, so let’s stay focused, do our jobs and bring them home. That’s all.” She turned to the crew on the bridge. “We’re going to start heading directly for the station. Plot the course.”

                People pressed buttons, entered commands, and the ship began steering to the right. Rein watched this, her knuckles clenched tightly behind her back. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back. How fast are we going?”

                “About three knots, Commander.”

                “Good. What’s going on ahead of us? Radar?”

                “Three seventy, I declare eagle.”

                Rein blinked. “Come again?”

                “Candanaver a poke tick asbestos.” The technician manning radar took a sip of his coffee. “Blue. Squeeze quiche a party party sandwich. Umbrella? As if!”

                There was a short, stunned silence on the bridge. Hannah cleared her throat. “Uh, when I said we didn’t miss that thing a few minutes ago...”

                “I see.” Rein pointed at one of the guards. “Take this man to the infirmary.”

                “Yes, Commander.”

                “Jelly?” The technician asked as the guard put a hand on his shoulder. When he turned, Hannah could see his eyes were full of colour, and rainbows were leaking down his face. “Experience tree farm thy laser. Everything kale. Bylaw, Guy Fawkes!”

                Hannah watched him go, a sinking feeling in her chest. She was so not qualified to be in charge of this ship. Everyone was putting their faith in a stupid kid like her, and she was letting them down, and _they knew it_. If anyone else on this ship had her ability to see – her Sight, she called it – she’d be out of a job in a heartbeat.

                And you know what? She’d be totally okay with that. Hannah was honestly quite used to letting herself down, and fucking things up for herself. It sucked, but at least she wasn’t dragging anyone else into her messes.

                But these last few months had been totally, completely alien. Because for once in her life, Hannah was _indispensible_. If she went down, if she fucked things up, this entire ship and everyone on it was going with her.

                How it weighed on her. She watched Rein turn back to the front, her knuckles clenched white behind her back.

                “Stay focused, everyone. I want to be back on base as soon as possible.”

 

* * *

 

                They were closing in on the science station. It was pitch black outside because it was the middle of winter in Antarctica, but if there was any light at all you’d probably be able to see the mainland from here. And a short trip from the shore was the research station, containing twenty five of… how did Commander Rein put it? The world’s best and brightest.

                About that.

                After the Transcendence hit, a giant storm swept through the South Pole and knocked out all communication. When they came online again, things were… different. Hannah had to be in the bridge next to Rein whenever the ship was in operation, so over the six months she’d found herself privy to some of the messages and recordings that had been sent by the survivors, amongst other things.

                Most of the stations did not communicate. Of the handful that did, about twenty were coherent. Somebody on the north shore kept repeating, ‘Paper. Paper. Paper.’ into their receiver. Monster noises came from another. One guy they rescued a week ago kept talking about the lovely garden he was keeping in the middle of an Arctic winter, and how his favourite thing was watching the sun shine on his purple flowers. Everyone thought he was crazy, but when they came to extract him there was indeed a patch of green flowering in the middle of the harsh wasteland. In the time he was on the ship he made another patch on the deck, watering plants with empty water glasses and talking to anybody who would listen about the pretty, pretty flowers. Hannah could see purple sprouting in his soul, roots stretching through his brain and down his spine, throbbing like a heartbeat.

                She was glad when he was gone, and she could put him out of mind.

                Anyway, you get the point; the world’s best and brightest didn’t often come out of Antarctica like they went in. The twenty five on this station, on the other hand, had been refreshingly normal.

                Their team leader was Jinnett Span, a meteorologist studying weather patterns in the Antarctic. They’d taken shelter when the storm hit, and most of their supplies were undamaged. They could last the winter. One of their members had gone missing during the storm, but otherwise everyone was present and accounted for. They were certainly shaken by the turn of events, but were sticking together and holding out until help arrived.

                Command marked them as a lower priority, due to their relative stability and more remote location. When they received a distress call, however, Rein and her crew were immediately dispatched to extract them as fast as possible. Hannah couldn’t help but feel they’d gone the wrong way about this, but she kept that to herself.

                That wasn’t her job. Her job was to watch for monsters, and considering how well that was going so far, she probably shouldn’t be adding more to her plate by telling Rein how to do hers.

                Speaking of her job, Hannah caught sight of bubbles in the water. She _felt_ it before she saw it: some cold, desperate _presence_ , different from anything she’d experienced before. Right in front of the ship’s heater, she broke out into goose bumps. She stood, frozen stiff, staring at that patch of ocean.

                The bubbles were gone, but the _presence_ was still there. Watching. Waiting.

                Hannah turned to Rein. “I think we have a problem, Commander?”

                “What is it?”

                “There’s something there.” She started to point. “I-I mean, I know you can’t see it, but-“

                “Are we on a collision course?”

                “Uh, no, I can’t see it, but-“

                “ _You_ can’t see it?”

                “Well, no, but-“

                “Then how do you know it’s there if you can’t see it?”

                Hannah’s mouth clamped shut as she scrambled for something beyond ‘I just know’. Rein stared her down.

                Then she saw something pop out of the water. “Look, it’s there!”

                Rein looked. Behind her, the entire bridge looked. They saw a single penguin leap out of the water and submerge again.

                Hannah saw, and she shivered. On its head, there were lines, black lines leading to the shore. She’d never seen anything like that – something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but every inch of her wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible from that thing.

                “That’s a penguin.” Rein was saying. “They live in the South Pole. That’s nothing unusual.”

                No, no, no. Hannah found herself shaking her head. “Commander, I don’t think… that’s-“

                “Well, it’s not a magical penguin, is it? I can see it plain as day.”

                And she did. And Hannah could see the technicians behind them snicker, hear the impatience Rein was fighting to keep out of her tone. They saw the penguin. But she saw something else. She _saw_.

                “Well, I-I don’t know… people can see some magical things, r-right? Like centaurs and stuff…”

                Rein said nothing. Hannah watched the bubbles disappear, saw the presence fade.

                “I mean, I just saw… I saw something weird, that’s all. Something weird. But it’s just a penguin, so... yeah. Yeah, okay. Uh-”

                “Can you see an immediate threat to us?”

                “Well, it’s gone now-“

                “Then stop wasting my time.”

                Hannah ducked her head, blushing a beet red. “Y-yes, Commander. Sorry, sorry…”

                Rein turned away and started directing the bridge. Hannah kept looking at that one patch of water, her heart beating in her chest.

                It was gone. Everything was fine. She was just an idiot.

 

* * *

 

                They reached land in the early hours of the morning. Hannah listened in as Rein radioed the station; nothing but static answered them back. Hannah watched as the Commander turned to address the bridge, a grim expression on her face.

                “It’s no use,” She said. “We’re going to have to go down there and investigate ourselves.”

                It was expected, but Hannah still suppressed a groan. The station was a fair bit more inland compared to other rescues they’d done – maybe if they could reach Jinnett and her crew, Rein could establish a meeting point, or find out what triggered them to raise the alarm, or, heck, just know that somebody down there was still alive to be rescued. But it seemed that was not to be, and so the rescue team would be going in blind.

                And if there was a rescue team, guess who had to accompany them? Hannah was finally excused from her position at the bridge, only to don her winter gear and head out onto the windy, icy dock and help with preparations. At least she got to use the bathroom before she left – a sentence she never thought she’d have to utter.

                They loaded heavy tracked vehicles onto the snow in temperatures far below freezing, the harsh light of the ship quickly fading into darkness. Hannah couldn’t see where the land ended and the night sky began. She braced herself against the blowing wind and hunched her shoulders, just to reclaim a little bit of warmth. She was wearing three gloves, and she still tucked her hands into her armpits at every opportunity.

                And as she worked, she also had to keep an eye out. So far, nothing was catching her eye, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to be extra vigilant this mission.

                Hannah shivered. As much as she wanted to say she was overreacting, she couldn’t get over the wrongness she’d felt when she first caught sight of the bubbles in the water. She’d seen some disturbing things in Antarctica – psychic sea monsters, multicoloured bubbles that broke minds, strings in the sky – but that _presence_ … she’d never seen something that stared back.

                Yes, that’s why it felt so wrong. That intelligence was what was so unnerving. She didn’t know what that thing was, but it certainly wasn’t a penguin. She should have made a bigger deal about it, she should have been more decisive – but of course she didn’t. She stuttered around the topic like an idiot and got on Rein’s nerves. God, that was embarrassing.

                If she saw it again, she would make a bigger deal of it. She would be decisive. She promised herself that much.

                The last truck was loaded onto the ground below. Hannah gingerly patted the massive snow tires before turning to face Rein. The commander had on a great red coat that extended down to her knees, and she kept it wrapped tightly around herself as she spoke.

                Hannah saw only a red blob. She listened to the blob giving out instructions as best she could, wiggling her fingers and stretching her legs to keep the blood flowing.

                “Your mission leader is Lieutenant Garn,” She was saying. A man stepped out of the crowd and stood next to her. “You’ll also have our lookout, Seaman Feunna.”

                Rein was talking about Hannah. She moved to stand next to Rein, but the commander kept talking and she shuffled back into line.

                “Do what they say, watch each others’ backs. I’ll see you back here with twenty five scientists.”

                She turned away, and Garn stepped up. “Alright, everyone! To your assigned vehicle! Let’s go, let’s go!”  
                Ten soldiers piled into two massive tracked trucks, and she watched them fire up with a roar, their headlights blazing to life and illuminating the flecks of snow in the air. Hannah hesitated, and looked over at Rein. The red blob gave her a wave, and she nervously waved back.

                “Alright,” A hand landed on her shoulder, and Hannah jumped. Garn’s eyes wrinkled in a smile from behind his face mask. “Time to get moving. You’re in front with me. How’s your radio?”

                “Oh! I need to check it.”

                “That you do. Brr, I’d do it in here.” He put a foot on the step bar and opened the truck door for her. “Ladies first.”

                “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

                Up on the bridge, Hannah sometimes forgot that there was an entire ship full of people she’d never met. Though they were strangers to her, she was very much known to them – she had a rather unique job, after all. Hannah didn’t like to think that there were probably people talking about how weird she was all over the ship, but that was probably what was happening. Again, she usually managed to put it out of mind; she had bigger things to worry about.

                But she wasn’t in the bridge anymore. She was in a truck with Lieutenant Garn, a man she’d never met in her life. And as much as she’d love to spend the next few hours in silence, Garn apparently liked small talk. Oh, he liked small talk.

                And what do you think he talked about?

                “So,” Garn started speaking shortly after they started driving. He’d taken his mask off, and was adjusting the heater to blast directly at his face. “You’re Hannah, right?”

                Hannah nodded.

                “Garn. Rodney Garn.” He lowered his voice. “Bond. James Bond.”

                Then he chuckled to himself. Hannah forced a smile.

                “I’d like it shaken, not stirred. That’s- You know what I’m talking about, right?”

                “Oh, yeah, I know. Um, James Bond.”

                “Good. Heh, I should stop with the dad jokes.” He rubbed his nose. “My daughter can’t stand them. She used to go, ‘Stoooop it, daaaad!”

                “Oh. Haha.”

                “Yeah, so that’s…” He trailed off. Just when Hannah thought she should say something to break the awkward silence, he started up again. “So you’re up in the bridge all the time, aren’t you?”

                “Uh, yeah.”

                “Must be nice. Gets real cold down on the deck.”

                “Oh.”

                “You’re watching for, you know, _things_ , though.” Garn gripped the steering wheel. “I gotta say, I don’t understand this Transcendence stuff. One minute everything’s good, and now we got fairytale creatures in every nook and cranny. You know, I thought they were just supposed to be kid’s stories, but they’re causing real problems.”

                “Yeah.” Hannah nodded along. “It’s been kind of crazy.”

                “And you’re on the lookout for that kind of stuff, right?”

                “Yeah.”

                “So what kind of stuff do you see? Fairies, or centaurs, or-“

                “Oh, no. Everyone can see those.”

                “Huh. What, so you’re on the lookout for stuff we can’t see?”

                Hannah nodded. “It’s… hard to explain. I don’t really understand it myself.”

                “Any stuff around here?”

                She looked around. All she could see was snow and darkness. “I can’t see anything.”

                “That’s a good thing.”

                “Yeah. I mean, there’s usually something. If I don’t see it, it’s probably hiding or-“ Hannah stopped herself when she saw Garn shoot her a look. “Or, um, maybe there’s really nothing out there. That’d be lucky, right?”

                “Yeah, I hope so. Keep me posted, will you?”

                “Yes, sir.”

                They fell into silence again. It was a bumpy ride, and Hannah’s back longed to sink into the seat. But if she did that, she knew she’d fall asleep, and she couldn’t do that.

                “So, I’m curious, what kind of things _do_ you see?”

                Hannah grimaced. “I mean… just things. They’re kind of random.”

                “Like what?”

                “Uh, you know. Like… bubbles. Or plants. Or these green strings up in the sky.”

                Garn cracked a smile. “Isn’t that just the-“

                “Not the aurora. They’re, um, different.”

                “Oh, okay then. Sounds interesting. So you’re the only one who sees this stuff?”

                Hannah shook her head. “No, there’s other people, they found. Um, not many, though, so I’m the only one on the ship. Who does.”

                “Ah.” He glanced at her. “Heh. You know, if you’re ever not feeling up to it, you’ve got the perfect sick excuse, haven’t you? ‘Hey, boss, big scary monster in front of us! Let’s head back to base!”

                “Oh, no, no, I’d never do that-“  
                “Hah, I know, I know. You seem like a good kid. I’m just saying you could, couldn’t you?”

                “I mean, I-I could. But I’d never.”

                Garn chuckled. “You remind me of my daughter, you know.”

                “Oh. Thank you?”

                “Yeah. She’s graduating this summer.” He grinned to himself. “They’re letting me go see her. With all the craziness that’s happening, I didn’t think they’d let me, but I guess I lucked out!”

                “That’s cool. What college is she graduating from?”

                “What? Oh, hah! No, she’s in high school. She’ll be in college soon, though! She’ll go out and face the real world.”

                “Oh.” Hannah turned away, staring at her reflection in the side mirror. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

                Good to know she still had that baby face.

 

* * *

 

                The drive was long, but thankfully it grew quieter as they drew closer to the station. Occasionally Garn would radio Rein or the other trucks, and sometimes he would make the odd comment (“Never thought I’d get tired of snow. You ever feel like that?”), but mostly they drove in silence, looking out into the darkness.

                There were no birds. There were no trees. There was no sun. There was only the wind, and the steady grumble of the engine as it trundled across the frozen terrain. What an awful place to be stranded, Hannah thought.

                Eventually, she spotted something ahead. A light. She sat up. “Hey, look.”

                “What? Oh, you’ve got a good eye.” Garn picked up the radio. “Commander, come in. This is November 1. We have visual on the station. Repeat, we have visual on the station. Over.”

                Rein’s voice came through with a crackle. “Roger that. Proceed. Over.”

                He signed off and started giving orders to the other trucks, and Hannah pulled her hood over her head. She grimaced at the uncomfortable warmth gathering around her neck; in just a few moments, she knew she’d be grateful for the extra heat.

                They grew closer, and Hannah could make out the general shape of the buildings in front of them. There were two, both brown structures standing up on stilts above the snow. The lights were on inside. Around them she saw variety of long poles and wires and other complicated apparatus.

                One thing she couldn’t see was any people. As they pulled into the station, the only thing she could really make out was a general sense of unease, forming a pit in her stomach.

                It wasn’t…?

                No, no, it wasn’t the presence. She’d know if it was the presence.

                She opened the door, bracing herself for the familiar rush of cold. She looked back, and saw the other trucks stop behind them. Their engines shut off, and as the noise died Hannah could pick up the hum of a generator.

                Then the doors opened, and the rescue team came pouring out. Several of them had turned on their flashlights, and the beams darted haphazardly around the ground, occasionally cutting up and flashing her eyes. Hannah turned and watched Garn come around the front of the truck, rubbing his gloves together.

                “Alright, boys and girls!” He called. “We’re gonna give this place a real shakedown, see if we can’t find the missing scientists. You’re gonna buddy up, and you’re gonna stay with your buddy, okay! Let’s make this quick.”

                Then he turned and headed back to the truck. A second later it fired up again, and she could see Garn pull down his hood and pick up his radio. He looked up at her, and motioned her inside. Hannah shook her head.

                She usually stayed outside on rescue missions; it was easier to keep an eye out for anything unusual. Besides, after a few hours stuck in the truck, she was happy to have the chance to stretch her legs. Even if that chance also came with negative 40 degree weather.

                She watched the soldiers pair off and start searching the station – a group of them made a beeline for the two buildings, whilst others started searching around the back. Her radio occasionally crackled with updates from the search parties. Hopefully, they’d find something.

                Hannah felt that pit in her gut again. She kept an eye out, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Really, nothing at all; not even those strings in the sky she’d started to see as a feature of the Antarctic.

                Now, their absence seemed very, very ominous.

                Hannah jerked up at a sudden noise. It sounded like a yell. She saw flashlights dart around and point in its direction. A second later, a very panicked voice came on her radio.

                “We found something. We found something. Oh, my god.”

                Garn replied. “What’s your position? Where-“ He burst out of the side of the truck, and Hannah could hear his actual voice. “Are you? Come in!”

                “Uh, behind the building! A-at about three o’clock!”

                Hannah followed Garn as he bolted over to their position. She could see a large crowd gathering by the generator; as soon as they saw Garn, they let him through.

                “I caught my foot…” Somebody was stammering. “I-I just thought it was a rock. I thought it was a rock. But I looked down, and- oh, my god. I thought it was a rock.”

                There was a patch of grey in the middle of the crowd, illuminated by about twenty flashlights. When she looked closer, she realised it wasn’t snow. Hannah sucked in a breath.

                A bare, human back lay half-buried in the ground, greyish-blue in hue and covered in a light layer of snowflakes. One arm was extended above its head, the muscles still stretched taut over their shoulderblade. Their gangrenous fist stuck out of the snow, clutching _something_. She saw one of the soldiers bend down and draw it out of their grip.

                “It’s hair.” The soldier said, her features drawn back in disgust. “What the _fuck_?”

                “Put that down!” Garn snapped. “A-alright, everyone, keep searching. There’s still twenty four missing scientists. I’m going to radio the commander-“

                “There’s another one over here!”

                A soldier was standing a little ways further from the camp, shining a flashlight at the ground. “Completely naked. Hypothermia, maybe?”

                Hannah looked to Garn, but he seemed to be at a loss for words. The soldiers were milling around the area, shining flashlights at the snow.

                “There’s another one here! I think they’re all in this area.”

                “Here’s four!”

                “Five!

                Hannah stared down at the corpse, at the strands of blond hair poking out from between its shriveled fingers. She felt like she was going to be sick… but no, it was worse than that. She felt so sick, she felt so wrong, she felt… a _presence_.

                A shiver passed through her soul, and she grabbed Garn’s arm just as she heard a scream.

                Scream. What an inadequate word for the sound Hannah heard that night. It was as piercing as it was guttural, a sound so powerful it seemed impossible for human lungs to sustain. But it sustained, and Hannah watched a soldier in the distance drop his flashlight and sink to his knees like the weight of the heavens had suddenly been placed upon his shoulders. And he kept screaming, kept spraying out his very essence into the night like blood from the jugular. People came, soldiers shouted, tried to help him up, tried to see what was wrong… but they couldn’t see.

                Hannah saw. Hannah _saw_ a dark tendril poke into his mind, force its _presence_ into his soul, watched him scream out for mercy because there _wasn’t enough room, please, I can’t take this, it hurts, please for the love of God stop_! But it didn’t stop, no, it didn’t stop, and Hannah saw more dark strings waiting in the night, advancing towards the unwitting crowd.

                “Hey!” Hannah dashed out into the field, waving her arms and stumbling as snow crunched under her feet. “Get away! You’ve got to get away from there! Move!”

                Another scream was forced out of another mind. Hannah reached the crowd. She started yelling and grabbing coats and pulling them back towards the station, anything to get them away. Another scream, another soldier collapsed on the ground, hands digging into his hair until blood ran down his scalp, and finally they seemed to catch on. They scrambled away, they ran back to the station, shouting and swearing and crying out in sheer terror.

                They pushed past Hannah – somebody grabbed her hood to help her away, but they lost grip in the stampede and pulled her over onto her back. She saw the tendrils coming at her, heard the screams, the _screams_ , and she scrambled to her feet. She had to get away, she had to get away, please let her get away, please-

                Then she felt it. She felt it, pressing on her mind like weight on a balloon. Ten pounds. She stopped, dead. Ten more pounds. The weight pressed down. The barriers of her mind stretched and strained against the pressure. Ten more cold pounds. Her vision lost focus. Pain shot through her eyes, and she felt the jolt in her knees as she hit the ground. Ten more pounds, and more, and more, and more-

                _Pop_.

                _For separation is an illusion, and distance is relative, and I am infinite. Separation is an illusion, and distance is relative, and I AM INFINITE-_

_Strange._

_How are you doing that?_

_Hello?_

                _…_

* * *

 

                Hannah cracked an eye open. Snow. She was lying in… snow. She used her hands to push herself up.

                Her hands…? Yes, her hands. And her legs, her shaking legs carried her forwards, as her hands reached up and touched her face. Her face.

                There was snow on her face. She tried to brush it off, but it was stuck.

                There was a door. Her hands reached for it, but it opened before she could touch it. Garn stood there, his eyes widening as he looked her up and down.

                “You’re okay!”

                Hannah stared at him, and his face. “I’m okay.”

                “Your cheek…” He ushered her inside. Inside the station. “Hey, somebody warm her up! Got a case of frostbite.”

                Hannah touched her cheek as they lead her over to a chair. Her cheek, her hand… it all seemed so far away. Somebody draped a blanket around her, and she pulled it over her shoulder. Gripped the fabric, felt the creases.

                _There you go. Nice and warm._

                Hannah looked up. The _presence_ smiled down at her, its dark tendrils coiled up in the body of a soldier. She could see strings going up and down the soldier’s arms and draped down his legs, pulsing like they were driven by some beating heart. They all knotted together in his head, and lines went out from the back of his skull, connecting him to something beyond the walls of the station.

                She watched him turn and walk back over to two other soldiers who were also puppeted by the tendrils. The three of them sat on the side of a bed, blankets wrapped tightly around their shoulders.

                This was bad. Hannah knew it was bad, but she could only summon up a vague panic about the situation. The disconnect was jarring.

                “Hannah? Hannah?”

                Garn was speaking. She looked over at him.

                “I was asking, what happened out there?” His hand reached up to rub his nose. It made a scratching sound as it rubbed across his grey stubble. Huh. Was he trying to grow a beard, or did he just really need to shave? “-thought it was a zombie, but nobody could make heads or tails of it. I just heard this screaming… oh, my god. What happened to these guys? Are they okay?” He frowned. “Hannah? Are… you okay?

                “I’m okay.” She repeated.

                “What happened?”

                There was urgency in his voice – yes, this was a serious situation. She needed to pull it together. She needed to think.

                Garn’s radio turned on. “November 1, come in. What’s your status? Over.”

                “Uh-“ He cleared his throat. “This is November 1. Yes, she’s a little disoriented. Still trying to determine the cause of the incident. Over.”

                “Let me talk to her. Hannah? Hannah, do you read me?”

                Hannah reached up and took the radio from Garn. Where was her radio? It was gone.

                “Hannah?”

                “Yes?” Hannah blinked. “I mean, yes, Commander.”

                “Hannah, listen to me.” Rein’s familiar voice was bringing her back a little. “I need you to tell me what happened. We need to know if it’s safe to evacuate. Over.”

                She rubbed her head. “Okay. Okay. I saw what happened. It was the-the presence from earlier, the… when I was looking out from the bridge. You were saying it was a penguin, but I knew it wasn’t. I was right.” She stared at the radio. “Of course I was right. Why didn’t I stop the mission?”

                “That’s not the concern right now. Is it still there? Over.”

                She looked over at the presence on the other side of the room. The three men stared at her, and she felt them probing her mind.

                _Say no. Say no._

                “Yes.”

                That was surprisingly easy. She watched the presence frown. It drew the blankets tighter around its bodies.

                _Why are you making this difficult for me?_

                Garn sucked in a breath. “It’s still here? What do we do?”

                “It’s there.” She pointed at the three soldiers. “It wants to leave with us, I think. We can’t let it do that.”

                “No, we can’t. But what about the men?”

                “What about the men?”

                Garn made a face. “Well, we can’t just leave them here, can we? Just doesn’t feel right to me.”

                Hannah looked back at the presence. It stared back, absolutely nothing in its gaze.

                “We can’t bring them with us. We have to leave them here. I don’t think they’re alive in there anymore.”

                “You don’t think?”

                “No.”

                Garn crossed his arms. “Well, can you make sure? I’m not leaving anybody behind based on an ‘I think.” He picked up the radio. “Commander? She’s saying we have to leave them behind, but that doesn’t feel right to me. You think we could establish a quarantine in the infirmary?”

                Rein started to talk, and Hannah stared at the presence. It had something in one of its hands, - a reddish brown picture frame. Her curiosity peaked. She stood up, and walked over to them, stopping at the foot of the bed they were sitting on.

                It was one of the scientist’s beds, clearly. A bedside table was placed next to it, and Hannah could see from the dust outline that this was where they’d taken the picture from. She looked over their shoulders; it was a photo of three smiling people at a restaurant. Two parents and a child.

                Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Why do you have that?”

                The presence looked down at it, and then back up at her. It said nothing.

                “Hannah?” Garn motioned her over. “Commander wants a word with you.”

                “Wait.” She turned back to the presence. “Who… are you?”

                _I am infinite_ , said the presence.

                “No. Who are you?”

                She watched it frown. It glanced back down at the picture, and back up at her.

                “You’re different from anything I’ve seen in Antarctica.” Hannah said. “You don’t feel… natural. You’re not from here, are you?”

                It stared back at her blankly.

                “Why are you trying to come with us?”

                _I want to leave_ , it said. Hannah frowned.

                “Where do you want to go?”

                The presence looked down. Slowly, it moved a finger to point at the picture.

                “You want to go there?”

                _I want to go there._ Hannah watched it trace the contour of the child’s face. _I want to go home_.

                Hannah hesitated. Then she moved forwards and sat next to the presence. It looked at her.

                Softly, she spoke.

                “Who are you?”

                The presence closed its eyes, and images flashed across Hannah’s mind. Taking a ship to Antarctica, Jinnett Span introducing herself, shaking hands. The coldness in its fingers, putting on an extra pair of gloves as it worked on calculations.

                The blizzard. The station disappearing. Stumbling about in the snow, unable to see the ravine in the ice just in front of its feet.

                Slipping. Falling. Landing. Dying. The ice, seeping into its bones. Fading.

                No, it would not fade. Not here. Because the ice spoke, and it said that separation was an illusion, that distance was relative, and that it was infinite. And it would not fade here. Whatever it takes, it would not fade. It would reach out, and it would become infinite, and it would go home.

                Hannah blinked, and suddenly she was back in the station. Next to her, the presence shivered and wrapped the blankets tighter around its bodies.

                _It’s so cold_.

                Hannah put a hand on its shoulder. "I know."

                _I know everything_. It sat up. _Because separation is an illusion, and distance is relative, and_ -

                “Whoa, wait.” Hannah glanced up at Garn. Him and several soldiers were staring at them. “You want to get home?”

                _I want to get home_.

                “We can help you, but first, you need to stop taking people’s bodies.”

                It stared at her. _Separation is an illusion. Bodies are a myth. You can understand._

                “…Okay, but what happened to the people you took them from?”

                The presence said nothing. Hannah was about to ask again, but she saw the dark lines drawing back from the nearest soldier’s hands. They slithered up his spine, and the soldier gave a great shudder as the tendrils withdrew from his mind. Once they were gone, he slumped over, motionless.

                Breathing, but empty. Absolutely empty. The presence noticed this too.

                _Where did he go?_

                It paused.

                _Where did they all go_? Oh, _I know. I know where they all went. No… no, no, no!_

                Hannah cringed as panicked images flashed across the presence’s mind. Images of Jinnett, of the scientists, of the soldiers – all gone. And panic flashed to regret to icy determination. Because it knew everything, and it knew what it had to do.

                The presence was withdrawing, now – Hannah could see the other two soldiers collapse on the ground like puppets with their strings cut. She jumped up.

                “Hannah?” Garn asked. “What was-“

                “Wait!” Hannah pushed past him, tearing out of the station before anybody could stop her. The cold hit her like a physical force – she didn’t have her outer coat – but it was nothing compared to the presence.

                It seemed to notice her. _I know what you’re thinking._

                Hannah didn’t know where it was coming from. She spoke anyway. “We can still help! I could-“

                _You can’t. I know you can’t. In time, I’ll lose myself again, because separation is an illusion, and- no. I can’t go back. And you can’t go back, either. I’m sorry._

                The wind whistled past her ears. Snow landed on her head and shoulders, and she shivered.

                _The ice spoke to me,_ said the presence, growing ever fainter. _And we spoke to you. Truths neither of us should know. Abilities neither of us can control. We know what you have to do._

                Hannah stood there, stricken. The voice said no more, and she was left only with the sound of the wind, the chatter of her teeth, and her thoughts.

                Separation was an illusion. Distance was relative. She was infinite. She took the blanket off of her shoulders, and let it blow away. She took off her gloves, and set them down in the snow. With stiff fingers, she found the zipper to her jacket.

                A hand on her shoulder. Garn was saying words at her, shoving the gloves in her direction, leading her back to the station. Hannah let him.

                She just let him.

 

 

* * *

 

                The world was a very different place compared to when Ann Rein was young. Most days, she couldn’t recognize it. She wished she could; back when unicorns were only in storybooks, everything seemed so much simpler.

                Now she sounded like one of those pro-nats – she didn’t mean it like that. It’s not the end of the world that she lives next to a centaur now, it’s just one more thing that reminds her how different everything has been since the Transcendence. There are things she’ll never understand about this new world, and it scares her to think about where things are headed from here.

                Antarctica, California, the Bermuda Triangle… she’d done her part as best as she could. But she’d been cleaning up the Transcendence’s messes for almost thirty years now, and she was sick of it. Let someone else chase after sea cultists or wrangle serpent monsters or rescue beached mermaids. That wasn’t her job anymore.

                It was time to sit back and relax. It was time to do all the things she’d been too busy for back when she was a commander. It was time to tackle that stack of books she’d been meaning to read, try a hand at writing like she’d always wanted to do, and finally have some peace and quiet in her life, which had been awfully missing as of late.

Tonight, she was going out to a bar with some college friends she hadn’t seen in a while. She wasn’t big on drinks, but whatever. For once she was just going to turn off and enjoy herself.

                She arrived at the bar just as the sun was setting. It was quiet for being on such a busy street –Ann suspected that would change as the night stretched on – and rather cosy. Framed pictures and sports memorabilia were hung on the wooden walls, and over the bar counter were several TV’s tuned to different sports games. At the far end of the bar was one displaying the national news, muted with subtitles.

                Ann was a little early, so she sat alone on the reserved table with a glass of water, watching the news. The reporter was talking about the potential for demons to revolutionise modern warfare.

                She almost spat out her drink. Was that a joke? Who on earth thought that would be a good idea? Had they already forgotten about California?

                “Dear god,” She muttered as they cut to an interview with some demonologist. “People are idiots.”

                “Ann!”

                Glancing up, Ann saw her three friends shuffling into the bar. There was John, his wife Lynne, and Sarah. She smiled and waved them over.

                “Anne!” Sarah gave her a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again! It’s been too long.”

                “It has, it has. Hey, John!” They shook hands. “Hi, Lynne. How’s everyone doing?”

                “Oh, you know. Chugging along. My grandson has a baby shower coming up, and we can’t decide what to get her.”

                “Whaaat?” Sarah looked at her. “That’s so exciting! You’ve gotta sit down and tell me all about that!”

                They all sat down, and Ann sat back as they all got reacquainted with each other. It was all small talk, nothing of substance. She found her eye being drawn back to the news station.

                They’d moved on to another story. Good. Demons in warfare, what an utterly stupid idea.

                “Hello!” That was the waitress. She beamed down at them, a notepad in hand. “What can I get you all today?”

                Lynne stared at her. “Oh! Uh, I’ll have… can you come back later? Silly me, I haven’t even looked at the menu yet!”

                “Of course!”

                Once she was gone, she leaned into the table. “Did you see…?”

                Sarah nodded.

                “Looked like - what are they called – an elf or something. Pointy ears.”

                “Yeah. Weird. Wonder what she’s doing here.” Lynne shook her head. “Anyway, I hear someone retired this year!”

                Ann looked over. “Are you talking about me?”

                “Of course I’m talking about you, silly! That’s so exciting – or maybe you don’t want to talk about it, right? I know people were saying that to me at work and I was going, ‘Stooop, I’m not that old!”

                Ann chuckled. “It’s certainly different, for sure.”

                “Yeah, they held a big party for me at work. It was a big thing! They summoned the whole department down and everyone said a few words. Had a cake, too. It looked store bought, but that’s probably a good thing. I’m supposed to be on a diet, heh.”

                “They gave me this tie,” said John, holding it up. “And they gave me a cake, too. It was nice.”

                Ann took another sip of water, and she looked over at the TV’s by the bar. Football – shame. She’d prefer a game of soccer. Her eyes strayed down, and she caught sight of a lone figure sitting on the stools. They were wearing a puffy red coat, which had to be uncomfortable in this temperature.

                As Ann was contemplating this, the figure suddenly turned around and locked eyes with her. And Ann just about jumped out of her skin, because she recognized that face.

                “Hannah?”

                “Eh?” John looked over at Hannah, who got up and started to walk over. “Who’s this?”

                Ann started to speak, but Hannah cut her off with a sparking smile. “Oh, I’m Hannah! Rein was my commander from back when I was in the Coast Guard. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your dinner-”

                “No, not at all.” Ann rose from her seat. “I’m just surprised to see you.”

                And she was surprised, very much so. She hadn’t seen Hannah since Antarctica, and it was hard to believe she was the same person. The Hannah she had known had been a nervous, irritating mess – quite the unfair judgment given the circumstances, but that had been her impression. The Hannah before her now was not. She stood up straight, she spoke clearly, she smiled widely… something about it felt faintly off.

                Her friends didn’t seem to notice. “That’s so cool!” Sarah said. “So you’re one of Ann’s lackeys, huh? Are you gonna salute her?”

                Hannah laughed. “Maybe I should! I remember she was a real stickler about that.”

                “Hah! That sounds like her!”

                “Here,” John pulled up a chair. “Why don’t you join us?”

                “Oh, are you sure? I’d hate to intrude.”

                “It’s no problem. You see, none of us have seen each other in a while either. You’ll fit right in. My name’s John, by the way.”

                “Nice to meet you, John!” Hannah smiled at him. “I like your tie.”

                John beamed. “Oh, thank you very much! This is my wife, Lynne, and my friend, Sarah. And you already know Ann.”

                Hannah smiled at Ann. “Yes, I do.”

                Ann didn’t know why, but she shivered at that.

                The night wore on, and Hannah slipped into the group of old friends as if she had gone to their very college all those years ago. She smiled, she listened to their long-winded stories and she laughed at their jokes. By the time the waitress came back, it was Ann who felt more like the outsider at the table.

                “Oh, Miss Feunna?” The waitress said, raising an eyebrow. “You know these people?”

                “I do now, don’t I?” Hannah smiled as she traced a finger down the wine list. “Hmm, well, I don’t want anything too expensive…”

                John patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. It’s on me.”

                “Oh, you’re so kind! In that case, I’ll have this… the _vino rosso_? I think I butchered that.”

                Sarah laughed. “You’re fine, honey. I can’t speak French for the life of me.”

                Ann just stared at the scene. Okay, maybe she was overreacting – thirty years could really change a person, and besides, it wasn’t like she ever knew Hannah that well back when she was a sentry on her ship. But something about this still felt very, very off. She felt it in her gut, and the more she looked at Hannah, the less she could recognize the stranger with her name.

                She had a very gaunt face, Ann noticed, with dark circles under her eyes. Her smile seemed too wide for her cheeks. When Hannah stretched, she could see under her red coat and above her blue undershirt her collar seemed to stick out of her body, her paper white skin stretched taut over her bones. She was clearly very thin; underneath all those layers, Ann could see she was wasting away.

                Ann remembered she’d been medically discharged from the Coast Guard. It was shortly after the ‘zombie’ incident; Hannah went to be treated for frostbite and never came back. Her ship couldn’t sail in Antarctica after that because there weren’t any Seer sentries to replace her. Then no ships could sail in Antarctica at all, because the place was a goddamn magical vortex unfit for human life.

                “Rein,” Hannah now fixed that too-wide smile on her. “What about you? I haven’t heard you speak all night!”

                “She’s always been the quiet one.” Sarah nudged her arm. “Why don’t you tell her about what you’ve been up to?"

                Ann cleared her throat. “I retired. How have you been doing?”

                “You retired? Hey, congratulations!”

                “Thank you. How have you been doing?”

                Hannah kept smiling at her, but Ann felt it had changed somehow; a dangerous shine had snuck into her eyes. She picked up her wine glass and took a long drink. Then she set it down a little hard, and spoke.

                “How have I been doing? About the same as I always have. I lost my job recently, so there’s that.”

                “What?” Lynne stared at her with wide eyes. “How did that happen?”

                “I have chronic migraines. They let me go.”

                “They’re not supposed to do that!”

                Hannah shrugged.

                “No, I’m serious. I used to work in HR and that was a big no-no; you could sue for something like that!”

                “I suppose I could, but it doesn’t really matter. I found a different job anyway. And maybe I’ll get fired from that one too. That doesn’t matter either.”

                She downed the rest of her glass, and the table was quiet in the absence of her voice. Sarah and Lynne shot glances at each other; Lynne’s mouth was still half open, a reply on the tip of her tongue to a conversation they had never been having.

                Then John cleared his throat. “Well, this has been a lovely evening, but I believe it’s getting a little late for us.”

                “It’s getting late for me, too.” Sarah quickly added. “Ann?”

                “I’ll stay a little longer.”

                “Hannah?”

                Hannah stared down at her empty glass and said nothing.

                “Well…” Sarah tried to smile at Ann. “This was fun. We should stay in touch.”

                “We should.”

                They left, and finally, the two of them were alone. The waitress came up to them.

                “Is everything alright? Do you want the check?”

                “No.” Hannah rubbed her head. “I’ll have a glass of my usual, actually.”

                She nodded and scurried off. Ann cleared her throat.

                “You… come here often?”

                “You have stupid friends.”

                The reply was so unexpected it made her do a double take. “Excuse me?”

                “They’re stupid. It’s so easy to tell what they’re going to say, what they’re gonna want me to say… I honestly don’t know why I wasted my time. Because I wanted to talk to you?” She shrugged. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

                Ann stared at Hannah. It was as if all the life, all the smile had gone out of her, and she slumped in her seat, playing with her wine glass and not making eye contact. Suddenly, she was a totally different person all over again.

                “Then again,” Hannah continued. “They haven’t been your friends since college. I’m sure you’re surprised to find out how much someone can change in so many years.”

                Ann sat up. “What are you doing here?”

                “I’m here every night. What are you doing here?”

                The waitress arrived with a tall glass of brown foaming beer.  Ann watched her gulp it down at a surprising rate.

                “Hannah?” When Hannah said nothing, she raised her eyebrows. “Are you… doing alright?”

                Hannah snorted. “If you’re asking that question, you already have an answer in mind.”

                “I’m sorry about your job.”

                “I don’t care about that job. And I don’t care about this job, either. It doesn’t matter, Rein.” She set the beer down hard. “Nothing’s mattered since Antarctica.”

                Rein grimaced. “Antarctica.”

                “I wish I’d never gone. I didn’t want that job, you know. I knew I’d be bad at it – and I was, and people got hurt because of me.”

                “You can’t blame yourself.” She saw Hannah turn away, and she leaned forwards. “Look, nobody knew what was going on. I didn’t know what was going on. At least in California, we had some idea, but… no, you can’t judge yourself for what happened there. You can’t.”

                Hannah looked up. “Anything you wish you would have done differently?”

                “Everything. Everything, Hannah.” Ann stared at her dull eyes. “But we all did the best we could with what we knew at the time. I’m sure you did the best you could too – do you have any idea what kind of training a Seer sentry goes through these days? And you were thrown in there with no experience, no idea what to look out for and certainly no support from me. I’m sorry.”

                Hannah didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she sighed. “Your apology means nothing to me.”

                “I understand-“

                “I was kind of hoping it would. Maybe that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” She gripped the edge of the table. “I... I wanted an apology. For the longest time I really did. I felt I deserved something, after everything I sacrificed, for people who didn’t take me seriously, i-in a job that I _never asked for_ -“

                Hannah paused, there. She seemed to deflate, sinking forwards and folding her arms in front of her, resting her chin on her forearms.

                “But I finally get one,” She muttered. “and it’s just like everything else. It’s ash. It’s so, very, very, _beneath me_.”

                Ann didn’t know what to say to that. The waitress came with another drink, and Hannah didn’t move as it was set on the table. She sat there and stared at the glass with dark, sunken eyes.

                “Do you have any idea,” She started. “What it’s like to be at the airport, hugging your sister, to go home to a bed you’ve been dreaming about, to lie there and think about the future, and just know that you could burn it all down? It wouldn’t matter in the slightest. It’s all ash in the end. I got home… and it scared me. It scared me how little I cared.”

                Hannah drank her beer. There was a ring of foam around her lips when she set it down, but she didn’t wipe it off.

                “And I used to care so much, about every little thing. About what people thought about me. About how I thought about myself. But it’s ash. It’s just ash in my mouth. And it was like that for a while, until…” Hannah laughed a little to herself. “Well. I thought I came home with nothing, but I came home with something much more vast than anything I ever was. And I knew, then. I’d tried to pretend nothing had changed, but then I knew then that it was a lie. That ‘I’ was a lie.”

                Anne frowned. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand-”

                Hannah looked up, and she locked eyes with Ann. Suddenly, she could feel _something_ pressing on her. She tried to move away, but it was as if she was frozen in place. As Hannah continued to stare, it grew, and beads of sweat broke out on Ann’s forehead. It was like someone was pushing against her mind – there was a barrier, and it began to bend under the mental pressure.

                What the hell?

                “Separation is an illusion.” Hannah said. Her stare was chillingly empty. “Distance is relative. I am infinite. They’re absolute truths. I know I could be more than this… this body. I am infinite, and yet I’m stuck in this fragile little cage, surrounded by nothing but ash. Ash, Rein.”

                Ann felt Hannah _press_ , and she stiffened as the pressure climbed to an almost unbearable level. Suddenly, she imagined what it would be like to stand up with her legs. To walk out of this bar, into the night. To say hello to somebody, with her face. But that wasn’t Ann’s imagination. She stared at Hannah, and she could see that bright shine in her eyes as she imagined finally having some _space_ to think for once. Just one more mind, because she was infinite, but her body was so very small…

                A sharp pain shot through Ann’s eye. She would have screamed if she could move.

                “I could do it.” Hannah said, nails digging into the table. “It would be so easy. But… No. I can’t.”  
                She turned away, and suddenly the pressure vanished. Ann gasped for breath, and stared wide-eyed at Hannah, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

                “I’ve seen what it does. I’ve heard…” She frowned and rubbed her forehead. “The screams. It used to scare me, to think what I’m capable of. I wish I was still scared. It would make it so much easier to control.”

                She sat there in silence, kneading her forehead. Then:

                “They told me what I needed to do, but I didn’t listen. Maybe I should just do it. Once I left, I was always hoping things could go back to normal, that maybe I wouldn’t have to, but… no. I never left. Maybe I should stop pretending I did, pretending that I’m still the human I used to be. Separation is an illusion, and distance is relative, and I am infinite. They’re truths, and I need to stop lying to myself.” She finished her drink. “It’s not like there’s much holding me back, anyway. I’m tired of this bar; I’m tired of these people. I’m so, so tired.”

                Ann jolted out of her chair. Every inch of her body screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I-I’m leaving.”

                Hannah looked up, and she smiled at Ann. There was just nothing there, nothing at all. “Goodbye, Ann. I won’t see you again.”  
                Ann turned and near-ran for the exit. Holy shit. Holy _shit_.

 

* * *

 

                The next night, Ann came back to the bar. She never thought she’d step foot in this horrible place again, but she’d done some thinking over the morning and she realised that something awful was going to happen if she didn’t step in. That… _thing_ , that Hannah did to her – she could do it to somebody else. And if she did, Ann wouldn’t be able forgive herself.

                (She had to at least try. And if she failed, she had 911 ready to dial at the first sign of trouble. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Hopefully the police could do something if it did.)

                So she slowed her breath, and she ignored her pounding heart as she walked up to the front desk.

                “Hello!” The man smiled at her from behind a computer screen. “Table for how many?”

                “I…“ Ann took a deep breath. “I’m looking for somebody. Hannah Feunna?”

                He typed it into his computer. “Hmm, no, I’m sorry… I’m not seeing a Ms. Feunna in our system.”

                “She was here yesterday.”

                “I’m sorry, I can’t see her. Maybe you can give her a call?”

                Ann groaned. If only she could. “Okay. Thank you very much.”

                Then she went and sat on the bench. So Hannah wasn’t here. What was she going to do now?

                “Excuse me?”

                Ann looked up. A woman was tapping her shoulder – that elven waitress from yesterday.

                “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t help but hear that you were looking for Miss Feunna?”

                “I am, actually. It’s rather important; where is she?”

                The waitress made a face. “This is strange, but she spoke to me a few hours after you left. She said she was going to – Antarctica? – and she left her coat on the chair. It has her wallet in it. Could you let her know we have it in lost and found?”

                Ann stared at her, wide eyed. Gone… back to Antarctica? She didn’t understand.

                At the same time, a memory dislodged itself from her mind and began to play. Back when she was still a commander, standing out in the snow and the ice, her back braced against the wind, sending a search party off to look for a group of twenty five scientists. She saw Hannah stumble about, and look to her for answers. Ann remembered raising her hand and waving at her. Hannah waved back, and then got into a truck and drove away, her figure disappearing quickly as the snow fell, going, going, gone.

                Ann never saw her again. What she had seen since that night may have been only a ghost of the ice that swallowed her up, playing at living, aware, in some shape, in some form, of the terrible loss she had experienced. That was the empty-eyed, smiling skeleton she’d spoken to yesterday. Hannah? Hannah had been gone for a long time, now.

                “Excuse me? Ma’am?”

                Suddenly Anne was back in the restaurant again, warm and far from the desolate landscape of Antarctica. She looked at the waitress, and she slowly shook her head.

                “No. I don’t think I can.”


End file.
